


Flutter

by imperfectkreis



Series: Somewhere Between [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectkreis/pseuds/imperfectkreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a normal day at Skyhold, until it's not</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flutter

"Tomorrow, tomorrow," Sera litters the word along Lace's neck. 

Sera pecks and pricks and prods with her lips, slightly sticky, always sweet. Apple, its juiciness clinging to her mouth. Lace knows she sometimes keeps seeds in her pockets. As accurate whipping them at unsuspecting passers-by as she is in combat with a bow, only less lethal. Far, far less lethal.

"What about tomorrow?" Lace grips onto Sera's thin arms, lightly defined from drawing, releasing, some fist-fights too, which she would never win if the Inquisitor didn’t always back her up. There isn't anything special about tomorrow, at least as far as Lace knows.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, silly."

Lace gives up on arguing, instead rolling her hips up sharply, making Sera breathe quick, blot out her light freckles with the deep blush of arousal.

\--

When she wakes, Sera is already gone. Not terribly unusual, though Lace cherishes the time they have together at Skyhold, with real beds and plush carpet between her toes. Good enough to even have her feet out of boots, woolen socks, muck collecting at her ankles as days drag to weeks. Nice to have clean feet.

Sera’s room is cluttered with trinkets and with light from always-open window. She collects things, little and useless. While Sera is out of the room, Lace touches them one by one, leaving her fingerprints behind. Will Sera notice when she returns? Lace wants nothing more than for her to notice. Marks along her skin, ghosts of presence left on wooden toys.

\--

The force of Sera’s sprint hits her all at once, throwing her to the ground in a heap of limbs and kisses. Scattered over her cheeks, her jaw. Sera talks a mile a minute about nothing, something about hunting with the Inquisitor. Something more about “today.” “Today.”

Sera smiles and presses a finger to Lace’s lips, her legs straddled around the redhead’s hips. The courtyard isn’t terribly full. Still, the location affords them little privacy. From the way Sera leans over, the laces at her bodice loose, Lace can see the curve of her breasts, the valley in between. Like Sera is coming apart at the seams. 

“What about today?” Lace asks, her mouth wet with unspent kisses she still wishes to exchange for flattery and love.

Sera leans back so she’s upright in Lace’s lap. Grass tickles against Lace’s ear. 

Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a trinket. A fine gold chain, a ring on the end, worked smooth with skill, time too. It’s old. 

“It’s mine, but like, it fits me, right? I don’t wear it or anything, because it’s silly. Gets in the way with the bow. But I thought, I thought.” Sera huffs, blowing air that bounces her bangs out of her eyes. “You’re a bow-woman too. So way I figure, it doesn’t matter your fingers are thicker than mine. You can still wear it, but on the chain, right?”

Lace shakes her head. “What are you going on about.”

She smiles, like she’s a little embarrassed. “I wan’a give it to you. This ring, Lace. Like a symbol or whatever. Like you’re mine.”

“Oh?” Lace questions, “and I wasn’t yours before?”

Leaning forward again, Sera weaves her fingers between Lace’s, pinning her down against the grass. “But I want to make it real, like, really real. Urg.”

“Sera,” Lace’s face softens, reading what her partner will not say. That which she cannot say as freely or clearly as she does her unmitigated love, because this, this need is not a simple thing for Sera, acknowledgement in the face of others. Other people who have judged her to this moment, who will judge her yet. “Did you want to get married?”

The word drops like a stone, halfway to the ground, before growing wings and fluttering away. Lace barely catches it in her hands, careful not to crush.

“Yes.”


End file.
